


For the love of Cheesecake

by Angelily_Viventis



Series: Alan Rickman x Plus-size reader [14]
Category: Alan Rickman - Fandom
Genre: Age Difference, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Flirting, Cheesecake, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, F/M, First Love, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Older Man/Younger Woman, Pre-Relationship, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:54:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24001678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelily_Viventis/pseuds/Angelily_Viventis
Summary: Alan visits a bakery on the recommendation of his friend, Emma Thompson, and immediately falls in love.
Relationships: Alan Rickman/Original Female Character(s), Alan Rickman/Reader
Series: Alan Rickman x Plus-size reader [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1729954
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	For the love of Cheesecake

**Author's Note:**

> Please note: these are individual one-shots and function as stand-alone chapters. None of the work in these series follow on each other unless indicated as "Parts".

Traffic bustles past a busy street in Central London. Alan is stood outside a quaint bakery nestled between two large sky risers on recommendation from his friend Emma Thompson. According to her, this place sells the best cheesecake and everyone knows Alan is a sucker for a classic cheesecake.

"Are you quite sure this is the place, Emma? I mean, who opens up a bakery here? It's completely impractical and I'm damn well sure this cheesecake is not going to be worth my time," he says irritated over the phone as he's trying to shield his left ear with his finger in the hopes to try and block out the noise of the many passers-by.

"Oh, would you give it a rest! This is so you, Alan. You always hesitate to try new things. Give it a shot and then call me back once you've tried the cheesecake," Emma says firmly in her thick British accent.

While on the phone, Alan looks up over passing heads just in time to see a white Mercedes G-Wagon pull up to the curb. He rolls his eyes and sighs exasperated.

"You see, this is what I'm saying. All the rich pretentious wannabes come here to get overpriced coffee and factory-made pastries," he sneers while looking at the woman stepping out of the vehicle.

She's dressed in a short black corporate-looking dress and red heels. Alan watches her as she walks toward the left side of her car and opens the back passenger door. He stares on disinterested as she proceeds to pull a white top over her head and pulls a pair of black skinny jeans on under her dress. His eyes grow to the size of two saucers when she removes the dress in one swift maneuver from under her clothes.

"What sorcery is this?" He mumbles disbelievingly under his breath.

"What? Alan, are you still there?" A dramatic sigh can be heard from Emma over the phone.

Alan follows the woman with his eyes as she throws on a pair of white converse sneakers and heads into the bakery. 

"Look, why are we still having this conversation? Just stop wasting time. Go in and order something - anything - and enjoy the scenery," Emma advises her friend.

Still taken aback by the woman who decided to do a wardrobe change out of her car, right there and then on a busy London street, Alan reluctantly heads over to the bakery. He comes to a halt in front of the black wood and glass door and rubs the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb.

He slumps his shoulders and blows out a breath, "why do I know I'm going to regret this?"

A bell chimes as he steps through the door and the warm aroma of Columbian coffee instantly welcomes his nostrils. He walks over to the counter to order.

"Good afternoon, welcome to _The Pastry Box_. How may I serve you today, sir?"

Alan lifts his gaze from the multiple pastries on display in the glass case to meet the face belonging to the friendly voice. He does a double-take to make sure he isn't mistaken.

 _It's her_. There she stood behind the counter - the woman from outside. Alan looks baffled and a frown settles between his eyebrows.

He clears his throat and orders in his deep velvety voice, "Uhm, yes. May I please have a regular Columbian roast coffee, black, two sugars. And then..."

He looks over to the pastries again and pulls his face in a deciding manner.

He has to admit it does look good. Chocolate croissants, French macarons, beautifully decorated cake slices, cupcakes, tartlets, and a wide variety of cheesecakes line the insides of the glass display.

"Hmmm... What cheesecake would you recommend?" He finally asks after not being able to decide on an option.

"Well, sir, do you prefer sweet or something a bit more salty?"

"Sweet," he replies.

"We have the classic New York cheesecake which is always a winner with the customers. I can also recommend the lavender and honeycomb cheesecake, but my all-time favourite has to be the South African cheesecake. It's made with Amarula, which is a creamy marula-fruit liquor. Not enough to intoxicate you... unfortunately," she winks at Alan.

He smiles surprisingly and chuckles. "I'll have the South African cheesecake then, please."

"Certainly. Will that be to-go or sit-in?" she inquires.

"I'll have it here, please."

"Alright, have a seat and I'll be right over," she says sweetly.

Alan looks around the bakery as the woman makes her way into the back.

Beautiful white wooden shelving cabinets line the wall to the left of the glass display case, displaying several teapots, recipe books, and extravagant cake design mock-ups.

A comfortable-looking bay window seat lines the large window allowing customers to enjoy a good read in the reading nook.

Multiple customers occupy the white small round tables and chairs that are strategically placed on the black and white tiled floor space of the bakery. Champagne coloured lighting fixtures compliment the same coloured walls.

Cutlery clatters against fine white china and the grumble of mid-morning conversation can be heard in the background.

Alan looks to the right and spots several cream coloured booths along the right wall and decides to sit at one of them. On his way over he stops to look at the black photo frames lining the back wall.

He sees a photograph of the woman from earlier with a little girl; another one with her, a younger woman, a younger man and a much older man; and another one of her and the younger woman in the front of the bakery on opening day, he assumes.

He pulls his jacket collar tighter against his neck at feeling the cold air from the air conditioning and decides to take a seat in the open booth nearest to him. Just then the woman approaches Alan carrying his order.

In addition to her white blouse, black skinny jeans, and white converse, he notices she pulled her shoulder-length hair into a messy ponytail and is wearing a white apron with the words _The Pastry Box_ embroidered in pink on it.

He takes a closer look at her as she leans over him to place his coffee and slice of cheesecake on the table.

 _She looks young - maybe 27. Could the little girl in the picture be hers?_ He wonders.

Although she's on the heavier side, she is strikingly beautiful. Her full plump heart-shaped lips look enticingly good covered in matte red lipstick. She smiles at him and for some reason, Alan's legs go weak. Her broad smile sports two dimples either side of her face. He looks down to her hands holding the tray - they're supple, but tender. And her fingernails are clean and short, just the way he likes it.

_Hold on, if she can afford a G-Wagon then why would she be waiting for tips? She surely looks like she earns enough. Maybe a corporate job judging from the way she was dressed earlier?_

"There you go, sir. Please, enjoy," she chirps happily.

"Oh, please, call me Alan. 'Sir' is awfully formal," he says in his gravelly voice and chuckles.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Alan. I'm (Y/N), nice to meet you," she stretches out her hand in greeting, and Alan hesitantly takes her hand in his own giving it a light squeeze and shake.

Her hand is warm and soft. How he wishes he could hold onto them for a minute longer. He frowns in deep thought as she steps away.

 _So much mystery,_ he muses.

Alan takes a sip of his Columbian coffee and revels in the way the hot liquid slides down his throat. He softly hums in pleasure.

_That is some delicious coffee._

He picks up a rose gold fork and glides it into the creamy cheesecake. He slowly lifts it up to his nose and smells. The fruit is unknown to him, but it smells delicious and alcoholic. He gently places the forkful on his tongue and sucks it off. He closes his eyes in satisfaction as he rolls the cheesecake over his tongue. He chews then swallows.

 _My God, that is delicious_!

The texture is creamy and milky and not too rich like the cheesecakes he's had before. It's sweet, but not too sweet. He can taste the liquor, but as she said, it's not enough to intoxicate a person.

Speaking of, he looks across the bakery in the hopes to catch a glimpse of _her_ again. _Ah, there she is._ She's intently looking at the computer near the cash register, her tongue barely poking out as she concentrates. _How cute._

As soon as Alan's wristwatch chimes indicating noontime, multiple customers make their way through the bakery door in search of coffee and something sweet.

 _Wow, this place is more popular than I expected_.

Alan raises his eyebrows in realization. _Ah! This is why the bakery is located between two corporate buildings - more foot traffic. Genius!_

He lightly smiles and slightly shakes his head at his own earlier doubtfulness. He has never seen a place this packed and (Y/N) has to stay on her toes to keep up. He enjoys watching her friendly face greet each customer, yet working quickly to improve turnaround.

Alan takes another bite of his cheesecake before pulling his cellphone out of his pocket. He scrolls through his text messages and decides to answer a few work emails. In between bites and emails, he looks up toward the counter.

He looks around and spots only 2 other customers left in the shop. He frowns and looks down at his watch. He has officially spent two hours nursing a cup of coffee and a plate of cheesecake. He was so distracted earlier he didn't notice the lunch crowd dying out.

Just then a younger male customer approaches the counter with his bill. He's tall, tanned, and sports a dark hairdo. He confidently leans against the counter and says something funny as (Y/N) breaks out in laughter so sweet that Alan hasn't heard anything like it before. Her eyes squint when she laughs, probably making it hard for her to see out of them.

He glares at the man and feels something stir inside him. Jealousy?

_Oh please. Why would I be jealous, I hardly know the woman._

After the man leaves (Y/N) lifts her eyes meeting Alan's chestnut gaze across the room. He quickly breaks eye contact and looks down at his hands in his lap. He pulls out his phone again and dials Emma's number.

"Alan. How was the cheesecake? I told you, it's good, right?"

"Yes, yes, never mind that," he barks impatiently.

"There's a woman here and I -," he starts but she cuts him off.

"Aaaah, you've found her," Emma says in a sing-song voice. "Which one is it, the older one or the sister?"

"What?"

"There are two women working at the bakery, Alan. They're sisters. One is older than the other. _Obviously_ ," she states matter-of-factly.

Alan cautiously lifts his eyes to see if he can spot the other women to see which one's older.

_Think, Alan, think!_

"Oh, wait! The pictures. The one I'm talking about looks older between the two women in the pictures."

"Ah, okay, yes. That's (Y/N). The sister's name is Sophie."

"Well, who does the child belong to?" he enquires.

"Uhm, I- I have no idea," Emma stutters. "Does it matter, though? If you like her that much, go talk to her."

"Are you out of your mind, woman? Since she's the eldest I am going to assume the child is hers. Child equals marriage. I'm not going to go talk to a married woman and end up looking like a fool!" Alan slightly raises his voice in a whisper, getting frustrated.

"Okay, okay! No need to get your knickers in a knot," Emma blows out a breath over the phone.

"Just... just go up to her and make conversations. Find out about her. I'm not saying you have to ask her out immediately, Jesus."

"Don't tell me what to do. I'll do what I bloody well want, thank you! Now, bye," he disconnects the call.

He gobbles down the last bite of cheesecake with a gulp of his coffee. He slides out of the booth, fixes his jacket, and grabs his phone and leather wallet from the table. As he summons up the courage to go talk to her at the counter, his heart drops in his shoes seeing her picking up the little girl from the photo and placing her gently on top of the counter.

Alan isn't sure what to do, so he decides to take a look at the recipe books for sale while trying to stay close enough to hear in order to find a clue as to if the girl is hers or not. Alan sees her gently picking a glittery pink cupcake from the glass display and sticking three golden candles on top of it. She lights it with a match, careful not to injure the girl sitting on the counter, and holds up the cupcake in front of the little girl's face.

Apparently, it's her birthday as he can hear (Y/N) quietly singing 'Happy Birthday' much to the little girl's delight.

"Make a wish, little one," he hears her say and she proceeds to kiss the girl on the cheek after she blew out the candles. She dips her finger in the icing and holds it up for the girl to taste.

Alan still has no clue as to who the child belongs to and decides to swallow his pride and talk to (Y/N). He rolls his eyes at his own cowardliness and cautiously makes his way over to the till.

"Oh, let me ring you up," (Y/N) says as she sees Alan appear in front of her.

The little girl turns half around in (Y/N)'s grasp and looks at Alan intently. He smiles sweetly at the girl and she returns a large toothy grin. (Y/N) looks on as Alan attempts to make silly faces at the girl to try and get her attention. The girl giggles as Alan gently tries to tickle her neck.

"Seems like you two are hitting it off," (Y/N) says with delight evident in her voice.

"Alan, this is Franci. Franci, this is Alan."

"How do you do, milady?" Alan takes her small hand in his and does a dramatic bow while Franci doubles over in laughter.

"Sweet kid you have. You must be very proud," he attempts.

"What? Oh, no, she isn't min-" (Y/N) says flustered until Franci cut her off.

"Are you-u going t-to mar-r-ry my A-aunt?" Franci stutters to Alan seriously.

Alan frowns at first but gives a hearty chuckle.

"Ooookay. That's enough. Go to your mother," (Y/N) pulls her from the counter with a grunt and places her on the floor before she starts running towards Sophie in the kitchen while giggling.

They both look awkwardly down at the counter. Alan clears his throat awkwardly.

"I'm so sorry about that. Really I am," (Y/N) sheepishly looks up to Alan while her cheeks turn bright red. Alan feels bad at her discomfort and embarrassment.

"No need to be sorry. Kids say the darndest things," he attempts to lighten the mood.

(Y/N) attempts a crooked smile.

"To answer your earlier question: she's my niece - my sister's little demon child," she jokes eliciting a heartfelt chuckle from Alan.

"You are very good with her. Do you like children?" He attempts to make small talk.

"Yeah, I love them. I wish to have some of my own one day. You?" (Y/N) raises her eyebrows in question at Alan.

"Uhm.." he clears his throat. "The opportunity never presented itself, but yes, I've always wanted a family of my own. Not sure if I can still reproduce at my age..." Alan quickly realises what he just said, but could do nothing as the words already left his mouth.

He looks up in horror, scrunches his face in frustration, and slumps his shoulders.

"Oh, God. I'm so sorry. I don't know why I said that. That... that's... way too much information. My apologies," he rambles and rubs his face to cover up the embarrassment.

(Y/N) giggles quietly and Alan looks up.

"It's okay. No need to be sorry. Kid's say the darndest things," she reiterates his earlier words and winks at him.

He shakes his head and smiles from ear to ear.

"Can I ask a question? You don't strike me as the type of person who would work for tips and yet here you are. What's the story, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Who says I'm working for tips?" She retorts mischievously.

Alan looks confused as a frown settles between his eyebrows.

"I co-own the bakery with my sister. Well, on the days I'm not busy lecturing," she states proudly.

"I have... so many questions," Alan replies baffled.

"How... what..." he clears his throat in the hopes to clear his thoughts.

"You look very young if you don't mind me saying so. You say you lecture?"

"Yes. Well, sort of," she replies sheepishly.

"I'm the Executive Dean of Arts at Central Saint Martins and I give Fashion History lectures in my off-time at RADA. Oh, RADA is the Roya-"

"Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts. Yes, I know it. I'm a guest speaker there from time to time," he says proudly.

"Well, isn't that coincidental?" (Y/N) muses.

"Forgive me for asking and please take no offense - you're creations are delicious, but why own a bakery when you're already that accomplished in the academics?"

She leans closer to Alan while resting her forearms on the counter and whispers, "to be completely honest, I make more money from the bakery than I do as an Executive Dean."

Alan is taken aback by her words.

_Is she serious? This bakery has to do extremely well for it to get close to, never mind to top, the salary of an Executive Dean. She must live a pretty comfortable life having multiple incomes especially at the rate they each payout at._

"Don't get me wrong the Dean's salary pays really well, but because of its location, the bakery is making bucket-loads of money. And... baking and academics are both a passion of mine, so I figured why not follow both dreams, right?"

Alan smiles at her determination and passion.

"You are very right. What do I owe you?" he enquires gesturing to the till.

"Oh! That will be £9.50, please."

"May I add a piece of the South African cheesecake for takeout?"

"Yes, of course!" She deftly puts a slice in a box, ties a piece of string around it, and slides the pink container over the counter to Alan.

"You liked it, huh?"

" _Liked_ is an understatement, dear. I thoroughly enjoyed it. It is beyond any cheesecake I've ever eaten."

"Oh, thank you! Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it. Hopefully, I'll see you around more often then."

Alan grabs his black leather wallet from his pants pocket and counts out cash in order to pay. He hands her the notes and their hands briefly touch as she reaches for the money. She hands him the receipt with his change and he proceeds to place it back in his wallet absentmindedly.

He places a £100 bill in the tip jar and winks at her.

"For all your hard work," he smiles at seeing her wide eyes and flustered face.

He takes the cheesecake box in hand and leaves the bakery with a smile.

Two days had passed when Alan finds himself in his office on a Sunday night. He empties out his black leather sling bag causing all the receipts of the past week to bundle up on his desk.

He switches on his MacBook and uncrumples all the receipts, flattening them while waiting for his computer to start up. Once in Excel, he starts adding in each receipt's amount to his monthly financial spreadsheet. After an hour of calculating and re-calculating, the balance sheet still indicates a missing expense amount.

Alan sighs in frustration and rubs his eyes with his tubby hands. He digs deep inside his memory to try and remember what he could've spent money on the past week.

Finally, something clicks and he pulls out his wallet. Paging through his multiple bank cards he finds the receipt for _The Pastry Box_. Upon unfolding the little white piece of paper he notices some pink writing on the back.

_If you're interested in more cheesecake, ring me at 7911 112 116. (Y/N)_

Alan's heart skips a beat and he smiles to himself. She was interested in him all this time? How did he miss this?

_Bollocks, two days have gone already. She's going to think I'm not interested..._

With shaky hands, he picks up his iPhone and keys in her number. Before dialing he recites what he will say to her in his head. He blows out a breath and presses call.

"Professor (Y/N) (Y/L/N)," she says in a friendly, but authoritative voice that sends a pleasant shiver down his spine.

This woman surprises him all the more.

Alan clears his throat before he starts, "(Y/N). Hello, it's Alan calling... Ho- How do you do? You... probably won't remember me, but you... uh... gave me your number when I was at the shop buying cheesecake.... and..."

Alan throws his one hand up frustrated at himself and grimaces while clenching his teeth. He's a man of many words and yet now he's struggling to string a sentence together.

"Yes, of course, I remember you, Alan. I always remember who I give my number to," she says playfully.

"I'm... I'm so sorry, I don't know why I said that. I'm not usually this cocky... And I- I don't give my number out to men... ever..."

Alan can hear the embarrassment evident in her voice as she rambles and he can picture her cheeks getting red already.

Alan allows her to recollect her thoughts and calm down. He can hear (Y/N) taking a deep breath and letting it out.

"I am surprised you took this long to call. Were you exhausting your other options before ultimately deciding to give me a ring?"

Alan chuckles in embarrassment, "Uhm... no... actually. Funnily enough, I didn't know you wrote your number on the back of my receipt until I just opened it now," he points to the receipt as if she could see through the phone.

He swallows hard and summons up the courage to ask her out.

"I thought... since both of us teach at RADA... I was wondering if I could pick your brain about some topics I'm considering lecturing on? Maybe over a coffee and some cheesecake?" He attempts poorly and rolls his eyes at his miserable attempt.

"That sounds lovely, thank you. You know a place?" She asks playfully.

"As a matter of fact, I do. A quaint little bakery nestled between the hustle and bustle of London. I think you would love it," he jokingly replies.

"Well then, it's a date. I'll see you soon, Alan," she ends the phone call and a pleasant feeling of anxiousness settles in Alan's stomach before he saves her number in his contacts and locks the screen of his phone.


End file.
